My soundtrack

I read Mama Kat's prompts for her writer's workshop this week and chose 30 things I vow to do this summer. But I also wanted to do her prompt about the soundtrack of my life.

We all have certain songs that transport us to specific moments. I mean, if I hear the Zoom theme song, suddenly I'm four and pretending I'm Edith and have a Boston accent. Or I hear Beyonce's All the Single Ladies and it's two years ago and I'm in a hotel room watching her video on TV - and Sage starts shaking it (in a CUTE way, I swear!).

Anybooty, these are the songs that stick me in a particular place in time. My soundtrack.


Top of the World, The Carpenters:  I am 5. I walk on a street near our house with my sister, who's 11, and her friends. I feel awesome because I'm hanging with the Big Kids. We walk, and sing, at a volume that belongs only to the young or the very drunk, "I'm on the top of the world looking, down on creation and the only explanation I can find, is the love, that I've found, every since you've been around, your love puts me at the top of the world." And that's exactly how happy I am. Until we see a dead bird in the gutter at the side of the street. I, for some reason, poke it with my finger. Everyone tells me how disgusting I am and that I probably now have rabies. I'm devastated and slink back home.

Day O, Harry Belafonte: I am 7 or 8. I am obsessed with Harry Belafonte. Obsessed! I find an old record of my parents and play it over and over again. "A beautiful bunch of ripe bananas!" Not sure if they do this at the new place, but when I used to go to the old Yankee Stadium, sometimes they'd play just the "DAY O" part and it would echo, right before the crowd yelled it. Always made me smile.

Hard to Say I'm Sorry, Chicago: I am 13. I put this 45 on repeat, turn off the lights and close the door of our family room. I lie on the couch and listened to this over and over and over. I loved it. Loved it, even though it did not at all apply to anything in my life. Finally my brother complains because really? No one should ever have to listen to this song. Especially 91 times in a row. My parents make me turn it off. What they must have thought..

Live from Hollywood Bowl, the Beatles; Doors Greatest Hits: All was not lost when I was 13. I discover both the Beatles and the Doors. In eighth grade my best friend Paula and I do a report on the Beatles. We make paper bag puppets for John, Paul, George and Ringo and dance them around to I Wanna Hold Your Hand from the Hollywood Bowl album. How fun was THAT? Let's just say the Doors fit in with my mood swings back in those days.

More Than a Feeling, Boston: I am 16. I love me some Classic Rock. Still do. I wear out my Boston tape listening to it constantly in the car. We cruise around - I wasn't driving, I swear! - and drink ice cold Budweiser and play area guitar and blast this. So now when I hear this song I'm taken back...and then I burp.

Faithfully, Journey: I am 17, hanging out at the Homecoming dance. I wear a soft rose-pink Laura Ashley dress that was my most favorite dress ever. I feel pretty. I don't dance with anyone, just hang on the bleachers. And watch everyone else make out and wonder if it would ever be me.

Crazy on You, Heart: I'm 19. A guy friend who lives above me in my dorm blasts this on particular mornings. We know it's time to wake up and start drinkin'. I still remember exactly how it sounded, muted by the floor/ceiling separating us, but loud enough to make me bolt upright. It may or may not have actually been noon rather than the morning..

Diamond Girl, Stevie B.; Brown-eyed Girl, Van Morrison; Just a Friend, Biz Markie; U Can't Touch This, MC Hammer; You Dropped a Bomb on Me, Gap Band; All Around the World, Lisa Stansfield; Fascinated, Company B., Cecilia, Simon and Garfunkel; Red Red Wine, UB40; Add it Up, Violent Femmes: More college. Different friends, different bars, different music. I could tell you about each song, but that would be VERY boring. You're welcome. Let's just say they involved drinking and dancing and loud drunk singing. It was college, y'all!

These are the Days, 10,000 Maniacs; True Companion, Marc Cohn: I am 32. I wear a beautiful ivory dress, with beadwork on the bodice and a band a silk satin around the hem. I peer down from the balcony as the music starts. The setting sun reflects gold sparks on the ocean. The people seated below radiate love for us and are there, together, from all over the country to share our happiest day. "Never before and never since, I promise, has the whole word been one as this.." ... The sun has just set, and I hear the sound of the waves from the beach 20 yards away. It is still warm. In the high 70s, maybe, and I can't believe how gorgeous the orange-red-pink sunset was. How perfect the ceremony. And now I hear the words, "Baby I've been searching" and David and I are dancing, and crying, and dancing. We're married. Each to our true companion.

Hark the Herald Angels Sing: I am 34. Sawyer is born Dec. 13. The next day, I'm in the hospital room with a friend. David and her husband leave so my friend can help me with the whole nursing thing. A nurse comes in and mentions carolers are walking around, and did I want to keep my door open?  I soon hear them singing about glory to the newborn king. I'm not Christian or religious or anything, but I look at my beautiful, perfect newborn. MY newborn king, and the tears fall.

Beautiful Day, U2; Sexyback, Justin Timberlake; Chump, Green Day; Pump It, Black Eyed Peas; Alive, Pearl Jam: I am 38 and training for my first marathon. These are the songs that get me through another mile, another hill, another few feet. These songs are still on my shuffle today, and they motivate me to go faster, harder or, some days, just to finish.

Don't Stop Til You Get Enough, Michael Jackson: I'm 41. I'm hold X. Sage and Sawyer play. David starts the music, and just like that, it's a family dance party. We spin, we shimmy, we booty shake. We sing. X screams with delight. Or maybe it's with fear from my singing. The older kids want to be picked up and bounced and spun, too. The stress of the day melts away. We are laughing and singing and dancing til we're breathless. Then we do it again.

Thunder Road, Bruce Springsteen: I am 17. 21. 30. 37. 41. I am driving, and roll down my window to let the breeze blow back my hair at just the right moment. This is absolutely my all-time favorite song. Why? Because it has the best lyric ever written: "Show a little faith there's magic in the night, you ain't a beauty but hey you're alright." You may be all, "The eff?" at that, but it speaks to me. And that's what music's about, right? How it touches us and moves us and makes us feel.

I'd also like to take this moment to thank my husband for attending two shows with me, despite him not being a fan. Because he knows how much I love The Boss, and how his music makes me feel. That's what love is, people. That's what love is.

So I'm dying to know: what's on YOUR soundtrack?

If I only had a brain..

"This is one thing they forget to mention in most child-rearing books, that at times you will just lose your mind. Period. "

- Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith

Once upon a time, I had a Brain.

It was a good Brain. It thought interesting thoughts, and it thought them from beginning to end, mostly without interruption. It got me through college, despite being challenged by too much Bud Light and not enough sleep.

The Brain was a curious organ. It asked lots of questions, and noticed that all kinds of people would tell it random things. So the Brain helped me find my way as a journalist. The Brain allowed me to write, and people hired me to do just that. The Brain did its job. Together, we were on our way.

Now, the Brain occasionally got overruled by other organs. The Heart, for one. And another one that's, well, Down Lower. This was never a good thing. The Heart would get injured, broken, even, and try to take it out on the Brain. But the Brain would simply say, "I told you so." Because really? The Brain? Never wrong. 

One time, the Brain and the Heart got together. They got together and said, "This is the One."

And so I married my husband. Then the Brain, the Heart, and the one Down Lower got together and, well, I got pregnant. I then noticed the Brain didn't always fire immediately. I'd forget some things. I heard tell of Pregnancy Brain, that your brain does, in fact, shrink when you're pregnant. But I knew it was still there. It would bounce back and we'd be just fine.

I was sure everything was fine between my Brain and I until I actually gave birth. Because suddenly, I was the stupidest person on the planet. Words? Those things you use to form sentences? Couldn't think of them. It was charades, all the time.

Then I had my second child and I realized that, yes, I actually COULD be even dumber than I was before. So it was no surprise that after the birth of my third, brushing my teeth became fascinating. It was stimulating my teeth, which are close to my Brain, right?

My Brain now became Mommy Brain. It wasn't pretty. Sure, the Heart was thrilled. Thrilled! The Brain? Not so much.

Anne Lamott wrote something about how when a baby is born it comes out clutching 1/3 of your Brain. Considering I've had three, where does this leave me? I'd do the math, but it's a bit over my head.

Sometimes I have a glimmer of my old Brain. I walk into a room and remember why. I go to the store and actually buy what I went there for.  I figure out how to assemble my baby's wagon. I answer my kindergartener's question - correctly! - on how our circulatory system works.

I turn a phrase.

But then I forget to put my son's homework in his folder. I can't find the new pair of tights I bought for Sage's dance class, which I've also forgotten to re-register her for. The baby? I haven't left him anywhere. Yet.

My Brain is still there. I know it is. It's just overworked. Overwhelmed. In need of Omega-3.

I promise to do better. I know there's only so much Elmo and My Little Pony and Bob Books you can take. I need to do the crossword puzzles every day. Start listening to NPR. I vow to get more fresh air, more exercise. Brain? I really, really need you.

I miss you, old friend. I miss you.

This post is part of Mama Kat's writing workshop. The prompt was: “What did you once lose? Write about your search to find it again.”

A foreigner in my own kitchen

If you're looking for the most recent writing workshop post, you will understand why I linked to the wrong post when you read it here.

X holds up his arms for me to pick him up. He then points imperiously toward the kitchen cabinet.

It's time for a rousing game of "Guess what X wants?"

"Ba."

I open the door. I see a bag of goldfish crackers and hold it up to him. He takes a shot at it, knocking it out of my hands and onto the floor. Clearly it was not what he had in mind.

He points again. 

"Ba."

Ba? Could "ba" be a box of raisins?

Wrong again.

"BA! BA!"

Now he's getting pissed. I mean, CLEARLY he's telling me what he wants, and I'm just too stupid to figure it out.

I'm getting frantic. He's getting red-faced. A storm is a-brewin'.

"BAAA!!!"

  

Wheat crackers? Veggie sticks? Pretzels? Potato chips? Tin foil? What? Yes? Tin foil?!?!

No. You can't eat that.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"

We're both in tears at this point.

Because I have no freaking idea what he wants. I don't understand "ba." I don't get "Uh." 

Clearly, I don't speak his language. But I should. I should.

He's my baby. We should have this down, shouldn't we? Instead, I need a Rosetta Stone course in Toddlerese. 

He is now sitting on the kitchen floor, screaming and kicking his legs. 

I walk away. He follows. Screaming. Tears. Snot. He's reaching for me. I pick him up.

We start again. 

"Ba! Ba!"

I frantically scan the contents of the cabinet once again.

Um.. Cookie?

He vigorously nods his head, as if to say, "Yes! Finally, you moron! Like, duh!"

Duh, indeed.

I'm learning.

This post was part of Mama Kat's writing workshop. The prompt was "Describe a time when you had difficulty communicating with someone who speaks a different language than you."